Insomnia
by MatveyJeevas
Summary: A Muggle musician has just passed away. Lily Evans Potter finds life at Godric's Hollow unbearable as a new mother. One-shot. Rated M for some sexual content and bodily fluids. If you think you can handle that, this is safe to read.


**A/N: Originally I wanted to write the final chapter to my story Demolished, but it turned into this instead. Oops!**

**I rated it M because of a couple sexual and slightly offensive things. Might change to T, with warnings.**

John Lennon was dead.

Lily Potter couldn't sleep and was laying back in her living room on a large plush armchair, her four-month-old baby sleeping soundly on her chest. It was nearing midnight, and her husband James had already gone to bed. She had stayed downstairs, first feeding the baby, burping him, cleaning his messes, and settling down to rest with him. After a few minutes of silence, listening to the soft breathing of the baby, Lily had clicked on the radio. She had taken the Muggle device to their home after a few months in hiding, no longer able to stand long days of silence. Her glass of water sat on the coffee table, glinting in the moonlight, as Vin Scelsa's distressed voice announced the death of the legendary singer.

Lily was not sure how to feel. As the radio switched from the announcement to Lennon's _Imagine_, she found herself remembering the different songs she had listened to as a child. She and Severus had used to dance around her room to Beatles albums. She took a deep breath, finding it hard to feel any sadness about Lennon's death. It had been all too recently that her own friends, bright and young and ready to stand up against the Dark Lord, had been killed, to feel anything for a stranger.

_He's not really a stranger_, she thought to herself, clicking off the radio before the song was over. She played with little Harry's short black hair, from a tiny head that was nestled between her breasts. _You grew up with him, he was your Muggle reality_.

It was true; just as Severus had been her magical gateway, the revolution of rock music had been her way to stay grounded in the Muggle world after long months away at Hogwarts. She smiled as she remembered teaching Severus all her favorite songs. Merlin—it would be nice to go back to that. Before all this Dark Magic, the hatred, the death. Having been cooped up in their small but cozy house since before Harry was born, she wished they could do more. She hoped, perhaps a bit foolishly, that she could at least push Harry on the swing at a playground and watch him float down magically. She hoped she could perform healing charms on his skinned knees when he fell playing with friends. And she hoped with all her might that he could have a happy childhood—if only He Who Must Not Be Named could be _stopped_.

Lily sighed. She craned her neck to kiss Harry lightly on the top of his head. He could hardly sit up on his own; swings and skinned knees were miles away. There was time to end the war before he could even be conscious of it. But he needed to stay safe, locked away with his mum and dad and Bean to prevent that horrid prophecy from killing them all.

As if on cue, Bean jumped up onto the chair with Lily. She smiled tiredly at him. Bean looked like her, with fiery red fur and deep green eyes. He had been a wedding gift from her parents. Lily scratched his forehead, and Bean began to purr. Harry stirred on her lap and yawned. Lily chanced a shift in her position, hoping it wouldn't wake the baby. But as she sat up to get more comfortable, Harry opened his eyes. Now the three pairs of green eyes were all staring at each other, one purring, one yawning, and one sighing.

Harry had been asleep for about an hour. He seldom slept longer than two, though her mother told her he would soon be sleeping through the night. She often wondered if he somehow knew he needed to keep alert, sensing the nearness of the Death Eaters' grip. But then he would cry, so loudly that she was afraid the neighbors would know that their house existed. A nearby Death Eater would snatch him up in an instant with that loud wail.

But Harry was not crying now, he was simply yawning. Lily sat up more, and Bean hopped onto her knees, his back pressed up against Harry's feet. She gazed into Harry's eyes as if into a mirror. Harry blinked. It was Lily's turn to yawn. She looked at the clock above the stove, visible from her spot on the arm chair. It was midnight. So, Harry had only been asleep for about forty minutes, after all.

A chill swept through her body as she removed Harry from her chest, his blanket-like warmth disappearing. He stuck his tongue out at her. Lily chuckled and kissed his perfect little forehead. As she rearranged him to eat, the floor upstairs creaked.

Harry sucked away as she listened to the sound of James peeing into the toilet upstairs. The quiet of the night amplified the sound; he must not have closed the door. And when he was done, he didn't flush either. Lily rolled her eyes, expecting to hear him collapse back into bed. She was surprised to hear him coming down the steps, rubbing his eyes, wearing only a pair of boxers.

"You're going to freeze," she said reproachfully.

"Aww, come off it," James laughed, albeit very sleepily. He reached the bottom of the steps and came forward to kiss her forehead, and then Harry's head. "Oooh," he said, looking at Harry in mock jealousy. "Is it my turn next?"

Lily rolled her eyes again. She handed the baby to her husband, milk dribbling down his fat face. She wondered if she should tell him about John Lennon. Would he even know who that was? Stunned, Lily realized that James was not the one she had shared Muggle life with—that had been his school rival and now Death Eater, Severus Snape.

James stood there, rocking Harry. She decided to say it. "John Lennon is dead."

"Who?" asked James, sounding as though he was still asleep.

"John Lennon," Lily repeated. Her husband shrugged.

"I dunno him," he said.

"Neither did I," Lily snapped. "He was a famous Muggle musician." She didn't mean to sound so harsh. It wasn't James's fault that he was so clueless about anything to do with Muggles.

"Oh," James said, a little taken aback. "I'm… sorry."

"No—I'm sorry," Lily mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "I'm so tired."

James sat on the arm of the chair and put his arm around her head in an awkward little hug. He held a squirming Harry in the other arm.

"Go ahead and put him down," Lily told him. James obeyed, placing Harry gently on the floor on his back. Bean hopped down from her lap and immediately began sniffing at Harry's face. He cooed and tried to grab the cat's fuzzy ears. Bean patiently allowed it.

"Merlin, you're sexy when you're tired," James said, creeping his way to sit next to her on the armchair. Although the chair was rather large, it wasn't quite large enough to fit them both. James took her by the waist and lifted her up onto his lap, looking pleased with himself.

"And you're an idiot when you're tired," Lily laughed, turning around so that she was straddling him on the chair. James kissed her. As he did, she felt a sudden pang of sadness. Why was that?

"I'm cold," James murmured against her lips.

"I told you so," she said. "You shouldn't sleep in your boxers. It's October."

"I need skin to skin contact," he continued as if he hadn't heard her. "Or else I'll freeze!"

"Who's the real baby in this house?" Lily asked, smiling over her shoulder at her infant son. "You or Daddy?"

"Ooh, say it again," James said.

"What?" Lily demanded.

"Call me daddy again," he explained.

Lily rapped him on the side of his head. "You're ridiculous!"

He grinned and kissed her again. Lily pulled herself closer to him, her arms snaked around his back to give him that desperately needed skin to skin contact. They had often resorted to flirting and kissing when they were bored. The Order of the Phoenix had been keeping them up to date, but they could do little from Godric's Hollow, pouring their attention into the baby that now lay on the floor, being licked by the orange cat. Lily had grown to resent it slightly, often times wishing she were back with everyone, plotting and planning. She remembered being pregnant at the same time as Alice, eagerly comparing their belly growth rates during down time in the Order. But before they had given birth, the Potters had had to go into hiding. Lily wondered how Alice and Frank's baby was doing.

James had just begun to pull off Lily's shirt when they heard Bean yowl and dart up the steps, and Harry began to cry. Lily sighed once again, breaking away from him, to reach down and pick him up. It was hard to bend backwards and also safely lift the crying boy, but she managed to do it as James held her in place.

"Oh, come on, Harry," she said brusquely, brushing his tears away. "Can't you two play nicely?"

"He's too little," James said, taking him from her. They were sitting so close together that it didn't matter who was holding him—he was pressed between them like the cheese in a sandwich.

As Lily imagined what Alice's baby looked like, she realized that Petunia, her sister, also had a baby just a few weeks earlier than Harry was born. The image of Harry on the swing morphed into two little boys on the swing, side by side, cousins playing together just as the sisters had.

"He's fine," Lily insisted as James bounced Harry to sleep. "He's just so damn tired."

"We're all tired," James reminded her. "Wish we had some help with this one."

Lily got up and took Harry again. She agreed with James. Ever since Harry was born, they had been winging it on their own. Mum had been helping her through letters, but they were seldom allowed to see each other in person. She had plenty of baby books, but they paled in comparison to what an extra pair of hands could give. Lily had never spent much time with babies. As Head Girl, she had consoled countless eleven-year-old first years, but otherwise, her experience with children before Harry was limited. At times, she felt much like a child herself—only twenty years old, a mother cooped up with a father, spending their time twiddling their thumbs, cleaning the house, having sex, teaching the baby how to sit, and again twiddling their thumbs. It wasn't all bad, but it felt so utterly maddening that the others were _out there_, fighting. Making a difference. The only difference Lily could make was to this little baby. She craved the adventure that the Order of the Phoenix had provided before she had become pregnant.

"Come on, scatterbrain," James interrupted her thoughts. He was standing next to her, poking his erection into her leg. "_Let's go to bed_," he whispered.

They went up the steps slowly. Lily put Harry into his crib as gently as she could. He did not wake up. She glanced around the nursery, wondering if her baby would ever move beyond this cramped house and small room. They had hardly decorated it yet; the walls were a light greenish color, but Lily wanted to paint them light blue. A few toys littered the floor, covered in baby saliva and cat hair. They would have to clean it tomorrow. Lily vaguely wondered how she would get by without magic—and then she wondered if she wouldn't be so _bored_ if she didn't have any magic to help with chores.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," she whispered, leaving the door ajar.

When she arrived to bed, James was completely naked and was grinning at her devilishly. Lily spotted his boxers on the floor. She picked them up and threw them at his head.

"Hey," he said, catching them in his left hand. "What's wrong?"

Lily pulled the blankets over herself. She buried her head in the soft pillow, mumbling so that James couldn't understand her. She felt a hand on her butt, and kicked him lightly.

"Come on," James groaned. Lily turned her head sideways to glare daggers at him. "Okay, okay, fine," he said begrudgingly, pulling his underwear back on.

"I love you," she mumbled, moving her face back into the pillow.

"I love you too," James breathed, giving her another gentle kiss. "Good night."

Her body ached. Her head throbbed with sleeplessness, and yet however she shifted herself, she could not sleep. Her nipples were sore from nursing Harry all day. _Imagine_ by John Lennon was playing in her mind, a plague she had given herself by not listening to the whole song. Whenever Lily listened to part of a song, she found it impossible to stop singing until she finished it. She wondered how many radio stations were now playing Beatles music, late into the night, as Lennon's dead body grew colder and colder. Lily shuddered to think of it.

James's soft snores began to fill the room. Bean was curled up at her feet. Lily yawned and turned over again, the phantom sounds of Lennon and James's snoring wafting into and between her ears. Something in her mind just kept buzzing. She could not sleep. God damn. She could not _sleep_!

Lily found herself getting up again, looking for a bra. Almost no light shone in from the window; tomorrow was the new moon, and tonight it was hardly a sliver. She found her purple bra and snapped it together under her slightly damp t-shirt. It smelt faintly of breast milk and tomato sauce; they had had pasta for dinner. Lily picked up her wand on her way out of the bedroom. The achiness in her body subsided as she crept down the stairs, peering out the front door window. Godric's Hollow was dark and silent. It was well past midnight now.

As she turned the doorknob slowly, Bean appeared at her feet, looking up expectantly.

"No, Bean," she said, "you stay here."

Bean watched her go outside into the cool air. As Lily walked down the street she suddenly wished she had brought a jacket. She didn't remember October being this cold in the past. The graveyard was close by; she laughed softly as she remembered when they moved into the cottage, last May, and James had told her that the graveyard in Godric's Hollow was haunted. If by haunted it meant that ghosts appeared, she had grown up at a school with ghosts and harbored neither fear nor ill will against them (except, perhaps, Peeves).

Lily felt compelled to go to the graveyard. The darkness of the night soothed her worries; no one knew where she was. No one would be here, looking for her. Nothing bad could happen in the randomly chosen ten minutes she decided to leave the house. James's invisibility cloak was sitting in their closet. She felt foolish for not having grabbed it, but she hadn't known she would be going outside until her fingertips had touched the doorknob.

The graveyard was serene. Lily wanted to use _lumos_ to brighten the names on the stones, but she didn't want to risk discovery. She simply squinted at them as her eyes further adjusted to the darkness, making out names with dates underneath dating back hundreds of years.

The freshest pair of stones bore her surname on them. James's parents had died almost a year ago now, both having succumbed to dragon pox within days of each other. Lily knelt next to their headstones. Hot tears bubbled up inside her, pouring out onto the dirt below. Mr and Mrs Potter had been kind to Lily since she started dating James in their sixth year. Even after their two breakups and endless bickering, the Potters had welcomed her. She wished dearly that they could be here to see their grandson, to take care of him if something happened to her and James…

_Nothing's going to happen_, she told herself pointedly. Even though she had left the confines of their hidden cottage, there was no way any Death Eaters would be poking around Godric's Hollow in the middle of a dark October night.

Yet even as she thought it, she felt uneasy. The tears kept falling as she wiped them away. Lily stood back up and gave warm wishes to the headstones. The poor old Potters had only gotten to speak to Harry through her belly, having died shortly before the lad was born.

Lily wrapped her arms around herself as she walked back home, breathing in and savoring the fresh air. The front yard looked unkempt and overgrown; Petunia would be ashamed. Of course, Petunia already _was_ ashamed, but this would be for a different reason. Lily wished she could garden. Maybe sticking her hands in the dirt and feeling the sunshine on her brow would fight away some of this depression.

Lily gently closed the front door behind her, welcoming the heat of the living room.

"_What—in—Merlin's—name—were—you— thinking?"_

Lily jumped around, staring wide-eyed at James, who was wearing his sweatpants and shirt inside-out, and holding a sleeping Harry. The invisibility cloak was tucked underneath the baby, hanging down and shimmering slightly as it concealed little bits of James's torso.

When Lily didn't reply right away, James spluttered again, "Lily! Please, please tell me you have a _good reason—"_

"_I can't stand it!"_ Lily hissed under her breath, exasperated but trying to stay quiet. The tears were still running down her face from the graveyard. "I can't stand it! I can't sleep! I'm bored out of my mind! And you—you don't even know who J-John Lennon is!" The words came out quickly and became progressively louder. "I can't stand it!"

James stood gaping at Lily. Harry began to wail, suddenly awake now that his mother was screaming in his ear. His parents ignored his cries, James stunned by Lily's words, and Lily's face red and hot, glaring at her husband as if it was his fault they needed to be locked away.

"You—_you can't go out!_" James shouted. "You can't—I can't—I can't lose you, Lily." His voice shook, and he pulled Harry to the nape of his neck, soothing him—or perhaps soothing himself. "And Harry—Harry needs his mother! You can't go out and die!"

Lily pushed past him, fuming. She ran up the stairs just like Bean had run away earlier. Stupid James. Stupid Harry. Stupid Voldemort. There, she said it. Or she _thought_ it. Vol. De. Mort.

She slammed their bedroom door shut and threw herself onto the covers. The room looked even messier than it had earlier; James had clearly woken and hastily dressed when he realized Lily was not in the house. Lily sobbed into the pillow, her whole body shaking, aching.

Downstairs, she could still hear Harry crying. Her nipples got even more sore listening to the sound. God. Damn. Couldn't he just shut up and go away for one day? _One da_y? Would she never have a motherless moment again, could she never draft a potion or else duel with Death Eaters? Was she reduced to being a mother and wife for the rest of her days, hiding to protect them, unable to use her seven years' education to fight for them?

The crying did not stop for at least another minute. Milk leaked through Lily's bra and then through her shirt. She took both of them off angrily, throwing them into an overflowing laundry basket. As she sat still sobbing into the pillow, it became drenched in tears and breastmilk. Lily rocked herself slowly, wondering if she was going mad.

The door opened. James sat at the foot of the bed, looking sheepishly at his half-naked, weeping wife. Lily wiped her nose on the pillowcase, making it even wetter, and sat up to look at James. He was still holding Harry. He looked at his wit's end. She knew she must have been a frightful image, boogies and tears mixing together on her red face. It was only just now she noticed the bedroom light was on.

"Lily," James said gently. Lily bit her lip as more tears streamed down, getting on the sheets now, too. "Lily," he murmured, even more softly.

Lily collapsed in his arms, right on top of Harry, who looked somewhat affronted that his mother was now crying on him, rather than the other way around. James shifted so that he could embrace both of them. He repeated her name, again and again. When they broke apart, she had stopped crying, but her face was still glistening with tears.

Harry now had little drops of breastmilk spattered across his little nose and fingers; he had been right underneath her body when she hugged James. James saw his face too. They chuckled despite themselves, and Lily wiped his face clean with her fingers.

"Lily," James said one more time. "Please. Please, talk to me."

Lily took a deep breath, trying to find her voice. "I—" she began, dabbing at her tears with the blanket. James took her wand from her and conjured a handkerchief. The chief was white with purple embroidery on it; Lily appreciated the small detail, beautiful and silent. She blew her nose and rubbed away the tears again.

Harry whined and started to squirm. Lily took him and moved him to her leaking breast, figuring that the soreness would not go away no matter how much she starved the baby.

"Th-thanks," she stuttered, letting the now-soiled handkerchief drop onto the bedsheet. James smiled, warm but concerned. "I—I don't know what came o-over me…"

"It's ok," James said quietly, watching Harry eat. "I… I feel the same way, Lily, I do."

Lily stared bitterly at his invisibility cloak. Occasionally James snuck out on secret excursions—why should he be upset when _Lily_ did it?

"You don't understand," Lily insisted. "I can't stand it."

"So you've said," James said dryly.

"You don't understand."

"Try me."

Lily made eye contact with him. But before she could speak, James continued, "You feel like you're stuck in this house." She nodded. "You feel like the only thing you can do for entertainment is play with a four-month-old." She nodded. "You feel like you're losing touch with yourself—you haven't spoken to your friends in weeks, you've been cooped up with your horny husband for a year, you can't fight for the Order of the Phoenix." Again, Lily nodded. "Your—your parents are dead and you've been left with nothing but photographs and letters to remind you of them." Stunned, Lily did not nod. Her parents were not dead. "You've been a wreck for weeks wondering if you're a shit father, your son has barely been outside in his life and you know he ought to be going mad from that. You're listening to your friends' adventures, knowing they're risking their lives to protect your family when all you want to do is go and risk your own."

"Sometimes you want to run away and never look back," Lily said, quietly.

"Sometimes you want to scream into the night and challenge You-Know-Who to a duel."

"And you want to shut the nursery door and let your baby cry himself to sleep," Lily replied eagerly.

"And you want to go and have a run around in your Animagus form with your mates like you used to," James said.

"And you can't remember the last time you brewed a potion without being interrupted or realizing you're missing an ingredient!"

"And you just resent everything!"

"And everyone!"

They stared at each other, flush. For a moment, the only sound was a soft sucking noise.

"I do understand," James said.

Suddenly, the tears dried up. She no longer felt compelled to cry or scream or run away. Instead, a huge wave of exhaustion made her swoon. James grabbed her shoulders. "Whoa, there," he half-chuckled.

Lily nodded again, this time slow and sleepy, like she was drunk. "I…" she looked down at Harry, who was still nursing. "Mummy needs to sleep," she said to his tuft of black hair.

James broke out into a grin. He helped Lily lay down in the bed so that Harry could still nurse while she could drift off to sleep. Prickles of relief washed over her body, making her feel so warm that she wiggled her feet until her socks came off. Perhaps they could talk more in the morning; after all, they had plenty of time to do so. The last thing she remembered was James's face pulling away from hers after a final gentle kiss.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed. If you spot any mistakes, lemme know! Please leave a review because it makes me wanna write more. Also kudos for still reading Harry Potter fanfiction; I'm surprised I was compelled to write it!**

**P.S. There are some inconsistencies with their cottage and the Fidelius Charm… I wasn't sure how to go around them. So I just wrote it like this. :p **

**P.P.S. I typed Voldemort and it autocorrected to He Who Must Not Be Named. I remember setting it to this in high school! What a nice treat to find.**


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